There is one way into:
The boredom,
The school,
The fun,
And the only way out,
Is through the life you lead,
As you wonder across the earth,
On which you were perched.

As it starts to pulse,
You start to move.

As you get closer,
To the source,
Your heart starts to pound.

As it starts to wind down,
You start to relax and think,
Of what you just did,
As the final pulse hits you.

Then on to the next,
Where it starts all over again.

Two by two,
They walk through the door.

Moving from left to right,
And across the room.

To a wall,
By which they stood,
In hopes to see the light,
By which they hope to follow.

It doesn’t fall from trees,
Yet it is as green as the leaves.

It gets traded,
Here,
There,
And everywhere,
With none returning to thee.

When I finally get a few,
From the jobs that I do,
I lose it by giving it,
To them and you.

So why do I try,
To make the green.
That always evades you and me?

When life throws you,
Under the bus,
Flattening you,
Thinner than a pancake.

Do you get up,
And puff yourself up,
And get noticed?

Do you lie there and die,
Or do you move on flattened,
And going unnoticed,
Because no one sees you,
Or notices you,
Standing there against the wall?

Causing everyone that you knew
To start forgetting you,
And all you did.

Making you feel,
Like that wall,
By which you stand.

Slowly they walk,
Across the floor,
When suddenly they stop,
When there’s a knock at the door.

They stare at their feet,
Which are bare,
In hopes that their shoes will soon be repaired.

The door slams,
And they start to swear,
At the people that put them there,
As they walk from here to there.

When they die,
Their rut is bare,
Which is easily filled by people with tears.

Tears in their hearts,
That gave care to a person,
That they meet somewhere.